


A promise I could not make (But what if I was wrong?)

by callmenewbie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative realities, Angst, M/M, dragon magic, meddling with wishes, what ifs all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmenewbie/pseuds/callmenewbie
Summary: “Fine. What about everything else? Yennefer? The Child Surprise?” He took a big gulp of his ale, before he’d seem too eager.“I’m afraid I can’t say much more. You’ll have to find out for yourself what sort of life you are leading now.” Borch sounded mournful and Geralt had a nervous knot in his stomach; it was something he hasn’t felt since his youth. He wondered if he’d ended up living in the results of yet another unwary wish.OrGeralt strengthens his reputation to make irresponsible wishes, by wishing he’d never met Jaskier. It is granted, but now he has to face the consequences.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 185
Kudos: 558





	1. I could not take the burden of both me and you

**Author's Note:**

> So I was fiddling with this idea for a while now and finally the picture came together in my head, so I could actually write it.  
> The title is from the song called Hold On To What You Believe by Mumford & Sons; it just felt very fitting for the story.  
> Also I clearly took some liberties with Borch's magical abilities, but otherwise this is almost canon compliant.
> 
> I sincerely hope you'll enjoy reading it!

Geralt stood on the mountaintop with Borch sitting behind his back. He stared into the dip of endless trees and rocks below. This day was undoubtedly one of his worsts; in the span of five minutes he lost the only two people in his life that were constant. He couldn’t help but think this would never happen if he wouldn’t have met Jaskier in the first place. Letting him tag along was a great mistake, if it wasn’t for the bard, he could’ve avoided so many problems.

“You don’t mean that.” Borch said quietly, the wind picking up his voice and carrying it over to the witcher.

“Get out of my head.” Geralt growled. This was the very last thing he needed right now; a know-it-all dragon. “What does it matter anyway? No one’s here to do anything about it.”

There was a brief silence and Geralt hoped Borch might finally leave him alone, but he spoke at last.

“I can show it to you what it would be like, if you’d never met the bard.” Borch sighed regretfully. “But I must warn you, once the spell is done, I cannot undo it, no matter what.”

Geralt turned back to him and considered his expression. He looked sincere, but sorrowful. If he could indeed make it happen, then Geralt shouldn’t hesitate.

“Fine.”

Borch nodded solemnly, but he didn’t move from his spot.

“It is done.”

“What is?” Geralt asked with a frown. He was used to experiencing magic as a stronger or lighter wave in the air, new lights and colours dancing around, destruction and pain to follow. But nothing happened, the wind hasn’t even so much as picked up. Everything looked, sounded and smelled the same. What was Borch playing at?

“Oh it is done, dear witcher, don’t concern yourself with the changes just yet. You’ll find out soon enough.”

It seemed dragons shared some treats with magicians; they liked to talk nonsense while making meaningful faces.

Geralt collected his swords and grudgingly started down the path.

“Would you mind if I accompanied you? I’d feel much safer with a witcher on my side; you see there are many dangerous creatures on this mountain.”

Geralt doubted that there was anything more dangerous around here than a fire-breathing dragon, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t answer at all.

They left the mountain without making camp once and arrived at the tavern by the foot of it by nightfall the next day.

When they entered, everything stilled for a second and Geralt caught angry and disgusted gazes in the crowd, but Borch just called for ale and took his place by a small table in the corner and Geralt followed him. Even long after they’ve sat down, he could still feel the eyes on his back.

“What the fuck are they looking at?” Geralt asked in a hushed tone and Borch looked at him like it was obvious.

“You, of course.” He sipped his ale and when he saw the agitated expression on Geralt’s face, he set down his tankard and looked at him seriously. “I told you it is done. You never met the bard, so things are different – so to speak.”

“Different _how_?” Geralt asked gruffly.

“Alright. Normally I wouldn’t interfere any longer than necessary, but I’ll tell you this. As you never met Jaskier, your bard has never sung your praise, therefore people still despise you and your kind just as much as before.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully, it wasn’t necessarily a convenient thing, but he lived with it before, he could do it again.

“Fine. What about everything else? Yennefer? The Child Surprise?” He took a big gulp of his ale, before he’d seem too eager.

“I’m afraid I can’t say much more. You’ll have to find out for yourself what sort of life you are leading now.” Borch sounded mournful and Geralt had a nervous knot in his stomach; it was something he hasn’t felt since his youth. He wondered if he’d ended up living in the results of yet another unwary wish.

As Borch hinted there were more surprises in his way. As he spent the next month traveling, he was faced with just how hostile people used to be towards witchers. Of course it is not to say that people loved to have witchers around normally, but it was a long time since Geralt has been spit in the face or been refused a room, because of his ‘cursed coin’.

So he mostly slept in forests and roadsides, outside of towns, until he finally made it into a tavern where they didn’t turn him around; they did charge him extra however. He didn’t care anymore, he wanted a bed and a bath and if it’d cost all of his coins, so be it.

He never eavesdropped, but couldn’t help his own abilities; he caught most of the conversations in the tavern against his own better judgement. This was where he learned two interesting things; one that people gossiped about royals just as much as they used to and two that Cintra was on the edge of collapsing. Townsfolk speculated about what’s going to happen now, that Queen Calanthe was said to be shut in her chambers all day, withering away, while the king tended to all official matters and just what is going to happen now that they didn’t have a legitimate heir.

It’s got Geralt thinking. What did they mean by no legitimate heir? What about Pavetta and Duny and the Child Surprise?

Suddenly a familiar scent hit his nose; brimstone and sage. Borch slid down on the chair opposite him and Geralt grunted a curse under his breath.

“Are you following me?”

Borch didn’t answer, just inclined his head thoughtfully.

“How do you like this life, witcher? Is it everything you wished for?” Borch asked, leaning back on his chair far more comfortably than it was called for.

“What happened to my Child Surprise? Why is there no heir to the Cintran throne?” Geralt asked without any preamble and there was a sand glint in the dragon’s eyes.

“As you may recall you had a great role in saving the father of the child.” He started meaningfully. “Since you haven’t attended the banquet, where Pavetta and Duny meant to marry, Queen Calanthe killed the knight and soon after the princess ran away, into her own demise. As for your Child Surprise; it was never born.”

Geralt tried to digest the information. He was sure if he’d never met Jaskier, it would lead to not gaining a Child Surprise. He didn’t anticipate that the child wouldn’t have born in the first place.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Geralt asked suspiciously.

“Many. But everything with time, dear witcher. Everything with time.” He stood and left.

Geralt studied the table top intently. So his wish killed so far three people, if he counted the unborn babe. Was their meeting with the bard something important?

Later that night he sat in the bath, enjoying the steaming hot water that was nothing like the freezing cold brooks and slow rivers he got used to in the past month. This time he had time to properly clean himself and to actually take a better look. Even in the candlelight he could see the unfamiliar scars on his body; there were ones that he remembered to be healed into a much lighter and flatter scar by now and there were entirely new ones. Somehow his body looked the same and very different at the same time. He was used to having marks all over his skin, but these were clearly rougher than the ones he had before. He wondered, what did that mean and just what did it have to do with Jaskier.

*

At first Geralt found that there was an eerie silence following him on the road. It was suspicious; like a calm before the storm, but however ready he was to the ambush he expected, it never came. After a couple of days he realised that he found the road too quiet because Jaskier wasn’t there talking, singing or at the very least humming alongside him.

He almost forgot how loneliness felt.

He decided that whatever happened or didn’t happen in this reality and whatever he felt, he was still better off without Jaskier’s meddling and since he was the one who wished for it, he’ll just have to carry on. So he did what he’d do normally. Walked his path and took on contracts, slept in the wilderness more often than before, but cherished the times he didn’t have to. He killed monsters, he collected his money and moved on. And again and again.

Months have passed and everything seemed normal, or what normal used to be before the bard anyways.

Borch popped up time to time, checking in on him. This was one of those times.

They were sitting by the fire Geralt made just an hour ago, as the dark woods surrounded them.

“I never asked. What happened on that day, on the mountain? Was I there at all?”

He reckoned if he never met Jaskier, then he must have never met Yennefer or if he did it must have happened in a different fashion, meaning that she wasn’t there to make him take Borch’s contract.

“It took some convincing, but eventually you’ve accepted my offer. But without the sorceress on your side, the reavers and the dwarves turned out to be much more difficult to overpower. One of them sneaked past me and moved the egg. It didn’t survive.” Borch informed him gravely.

Geralt stayed quiet for a moment. So even more lives have been lost due to his wish.

“I’m sorry” he said quietly.

Borch’s eyes were shining in a sorrowful light, but he smiled at him patiently.

“It will be alright.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt asked with quickly awakening rage. “You said it cannot be undone.”

“Well if I remember right, I said _I_ can’t undo it. And that much is true. You on the other hand, could fix it.”

“Fix it? What’s there to fix? I’m really sorry about your hatchling, but I have no reason to wish Jaskier back into my life.”

Borch pursed his lips knowingly and nodded once.

“I’m sure you’ll see reason, witcher. Keep on living this life and you’ll find what you were missing all along.”

The dragon got up and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the trees, leaving Geralt frowning after him in annoyance.

Dragons and their omniscience. Well, this one was wrong. Of course there were downsides to not meeting Jaskier, but essentially his life has been almost the same; some parts worse, some parts better. Same.

What he told Borch was true; he had no reason to want Jaskier back into his life. Of course, it was more quiet and lonely in a way, but he’d also been rid of some of his burdening responsibilities, as there was no Child Surprise and no bond made by Destiny between him and Yennefer, that would end in heartache. (Except he didn’t lose his memory of it, but he tried to ignore that little detail.)

There was nothing, but Geralt for himself. Just like old times. Monsters and money and the time that passed in a fashion like it didn’t even matter. Days and nights, weeks and months; all the same.


	2. And this is all you came across those years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I could have never anticipated all this kindness and interest you shown in this fic. Thank you guys all so much, I hope I’ll do you justice!

Geralt spent nearly a year settling into this new reality, when the change came to him at last.

He passed the Pontar, making his way towards Tretogor in hopes of some new contracts, as his purse was becoming rather slim.

As he made his way deeper into the forest, suddenly he heard a familiar voice, carrying a slow, unfamiliar tune and he couldn’t help but follow the sound.

There, sitting on a rock, playing easily on his lute was Jaskier. He had a touch longer hair than what Geralt remembered and he wore a pale green doublet that not at all blended into the forest’s pattern, alongside with a pinched expression – but it was undoubtedly him.

“Jaskier” Geralt breathed letting go of Roach’s bridle, not being able to help himself; the horse just nibbled at the grass, not going anywhere.

He hasn’t seen the bard in a long time and to be precise in this reality, it was the very first time. He stopped in his tracks and stared at him, taking in the sight. With his serious, weary expression and his light coloured clothes, the bard looked washed-out, like a diluted version of his real self, or what Geralt thought to be real anyways.

Suddenly he felt like a thirsting traveller finding a pond in the desert, even though he didn’t know until now just how thirsty he was.

The bard stopped playing abruptly, snapping his head up. As their eyes met, Geralt smelled something he never did before; Jaskier was afraid of _him_.

“Uh, I’m sorry if I bothered you with my music, I’ll be on my way, if you–”

“Stay.” Geralt said and apparently he lost all control over his words. Jaskier’s fear smell weakened, as his expression gave way to confusion. “Finish the song. Please.”

It has been a year since he heard the bard’s voice and until this moment he hasn’t realised just _how much_ he missed it. The pang of loneliness in his chest started throbbing unbearably; like a hungry beast eating him away from the inside.

It didn’t matter which reality, Jaskier always made him _feel_ too much.

“Well. Alright.” Jaskier huffed a little. “I suppose I should never turn down any kind of audience. Although I might warn you, I haven’t exactly finished this song yet.”

Geralt didn’t say anything and Jaskier nodded awkwardly, before he started to play on his lute again.

Geralt always loved his singing, sure he might have teased him about it one time or another, but that was only to see that mock-offence on his face that always ended up in a fond smile somehow and a playful shake of his head. Geralt watched Jaskier’s face now, as he concentrated on the lyrics and the way his fingers made the strings come alive. It was a soft ballad, slow and sweet, heartfelt and romantic.

When he finished, he looked up at Geralt slowly and his face was so familiar and yet so distant. He looked healthy and well-rested; the usual dark circles under his eyes that crept up on his face were barely there now and Geralt was sure that this Jaskier didn’t spend much time camping in the wilderness.

So not meeting Geralt has been an advantage for him too. Then why did Geralt feel like something was amiss? This _was_ Jaskier, the same bard he’d known from another life, that wasn’t a question. But despite looking clean and healthy, he also seemed a little lost. He’d never seen Jaskier this way before.

Geralt sat down in the grass, keeping his distance from Jaskier, afraid he might spook him if he went any closer.

“Can you play me something else?”

Jaskier looked at him stunned for a few seconds, but then instead of an answer he just nodded. Geralt wondered just what sort of songs he was singing now that Geralt wasn’t there to be sung about.

The second song was also a ballad, just like the first, but it was even slower and deeper. Listening to it made Geralt feel like Jaskier was walking on his chest barefooted, tenderly.

_I shall die a broken-hearted man_ , Jaskier once told him. Geralt then thought it was more for the dramatics than for truth, but it seemed it was in Jaskier’s nature to suffer from love. This song clearly had a different subject, than the one before and he played it much more well-practiced and from where Geralt was sitting, it seemed that he was playing on the lute like it was an extension of his own body and emotions.

Geralt heard about Jaskier’s romantic encounters plenty enough times to know that the bard had much love to share and to go around, but it rarely came back to him, causing him to grieve lost lovers for days before he’d fall in love with someone new.

Geralt couldn’t quite understand the dynamic that moved Jaskier this way. Geralt himself had love in him, but rarely was he brave enough to give his heart to another and without an exception it was handed back to him in thousands of broken shards.

Jaskier was looking at him weirdly and Geralt realised that he must have finished singing a while ago now, yet Geralt was still staring at him.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” Jaskier asked, as he placed his lute down by his feet and propped it against the rock he was sitting on.

“Yes” Geralt said simply, because there wasn’t much else to say. But to his surprise Jaskier didn’t look as excited and adventure-ready as the first time they’ve actually met. His expression darkened and his eyebrows knitted together into a frown.

“You’re a weird one then.”

Geralt smiled at him just a little, but Jaskier didn’t reciprocate.

“So I’ve been told.”

Jaskier’s expression stayed much the same, but he contemplated Geralt for a few moments before he spoke quietly, like he was afraid someone would overhear them, even though Geralt knew for a fact that there wasn’t another soul anywhere near them.

“I’ve met your kind before. I always thought that what people used to say, about how violent and monstrous witchers are… that it was just oldwives tale. I was sure you just had a bad reputation, as so many other things, you know. If it looks scary, it must be dangerous.”

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows; there were many things on his mind right now. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the end of what Jaskier had to say.

The bard stood up, grabbing his lute by its neck, as he continued on.

“But it was true through and through. I watched a witcher rummage through an entire town, killing anyone coming near. _Humans_ , not monsters and not for payment either. Out of bloodlust and nothing else.”

Geralt felt his eyes widen and he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t justify what Jaskier saw; he didn’t even know if that was true. But Jaskier was the only person who ever since from the start believed in his goodness and treated him more like a hero, than someone to be afraid of.

He wanted to tell him that he can’t judge all witchers based on whatever he saw in that town and more than anything, suddenly he felt a surreal urge to tell him about the elves and kikimoras and children he saved and all of the other nonsense Jaskier wrote songs about. But he just couldn’t.

Jaskier wouldn’t believe any of what he’d tell him and anyway, he was the one who wished they’d never met. He didn’t wish Jaskier never meeting any other witchers. This was on him.

Jaskier nodded towards him promptly and turned around.

“Good day, witcher” He waved and Geralt wanted to call after him, but he knew it’d be pointless. So he watched him walk away. It was the one thing he hadn’t done a year ago on the mountain top. There, he sent him away, but couldn’t watch him go.


	3. A time to leave, a time to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will hopefully shine some light on the real reason why Geralt thought this wish was a good idea in the first place.
> 
> Also I know that the last chapter was a touch shorter, but I hope this will be compensation enough.

Travelling in the night through the woods would have been unwise, so when the sun was about to settle, Geralt decided to make camp.

Before the sky would’ve turned fully dark, he caught a rabbit and roasted it on the fire. He was never looking at food for taste, more so for nutrition, but ever since he was here, he found whatever he ate utterly tasteless.

He watched the embers dance in the small pit he dug for it. He thought about Jaskier, the one he abandoned and the one he just met today.

He was also thinking about Yennefer and wondered just how her life turned out to be. He suspected that she was still looking for a cure for her infertility, still in vain. Will he ever meet her in this life or they’ll be forever strangers to each other? Would the tale of their first meeting be any different than the one he already knew? Would they fall in love, if not for the djinn?

He thought about that last one a lot. The last thing Yennefer had told him was that it wasn’t real and however painful it was to hear then, he thought maybe she was right, although there was simply no way to find out.

And it wasn’t like it mattered at all. Magic or not, he felt what he felt. It was sudden and strong, but it stayed in his heart. It did complicate things somewhat though.

When he first met Jaskier he was barely more than a boy, but as the years passed over their heads, Geralt learned to see the man, the person he became. He was in love with Jaskier for over a decade now and when Yennefer came into the picture, he felt overwhelmed by all of it; the love he felt for Jaskier, forever hidden and unrequited and what he felt for Yennefer simultaneously, impossible to hide and _reciprocated_.

He wished to get rid of that mess and now he was here where that mess didn’t even exist, yet he still remembered all of it.

*

In the late morning, before he was about to move on, footsteps caught his ears. He knew it could be only one person, as he could smell his scent even before he looked behind his back to see Jaskier walk towards the rock, he was sitting on the day before, with his lute in his hand. This time he was wearing a pale blue doublet, which almost seemed silver in the morning light; the top unbuttoned as usual, showing a dark blue undershirt and a hint of chest hair.

“You know, this used to be my spot before you showed up.” The bard said offhandedly as he assumed a comfortable position on the rock. The smell of fear from yesterday disappeared, but Geralt almost wished it wasn’t, because now all he could smell was disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here soon enough. And then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Something softened on the bard’s expression, but he didn’t say anything.

“Are you here every day?” Geralt found himself asking, as he rolled up his bedroll and started to collect the smaller things he left around from the night before and putting them into Roach’s saddlebags.

“Almost.” Jaskier answered standoffishly.

“Why?”

Jaskier sighed and held his lute a little looser in his lap.

“Because it’s quiet and peaceful here. Well, usually.” He eyed the witcher meaningfully.

“Hm.”

Geralt kicked some dirt on the ashes that left of his fire and as he busied himself, Jaskier started to play. It was the song from yesterday, the first one; the unfinished one. The lyrics were more polished this time; after travelling with Jaskier on and off for twenty-two years, he could tell that it still wasn’t complete, but it was in the stage really close to it now. It was harder to listen to it, than he would’ve thought.

The Jaskier he knew buzzed around him all day long and probed him for details about his adventures and contracts, humming and singing, scribbling into his notebook and chattering along nonstop. It became something of a base noise for him, like the humming of chaos in the background; it was always there, unchanged and solid.

This Jaskier was different, he didn’t really seem to care that Geralt was around at all, if not just being annoyed by it. He looked like his own person. Geralt didn’t know if he was just as charming around other people as he was used to, but now that there was only Geralt, he looked taller and more confident. Of course those were true about the other Jaskier too, but that one was also kind and generous, never judged without knowing enough, always looked out for others and Geralt in his own way. This Jaskier just seemed stoic somehow, more rigid, disciplined even and Geralt thought it was probably due to the very different experiences he must have gained by living here. Here, where he settled down in one place and hated witchers.

There was a sudden ache in his heart and he was glad Jaskier couldn’t see his face as he fumbled with the saddlebags.

The bard ended the song on a slow, high note. Geralt stayed still and he couldn’t hear any movement from behind himself either.

He wondered if this life was more suited for the bard. Geralt always imagined that he’d do better in court, than roaming the wilderness with him, but he insisted to write the chronicles of the great White Wolf and Geralt lost the will to protest the very first time and every other try to keep him away was half-hearted and mainly for show, nothing else.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier asked quietly and Geralt dared a look towards him. He wasn’t looking back; he was watching the walls of Oxenfurt stretching farther away, on the edge of the forest.

“Tretogor.” Geralt answered as he fastened the last belt on the bags. “The only place in the area, where I could find contracts.”

Jaskier hummed in thought, then turned to look at his face. “Good luck, witcher.”

Geralt mounted Roach and watched the bard, as he set his lute back into position in his lap.

“It’s Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He said and Jaskier stared at his face for a few impossibly long seconds.

“Good luck, Geralt. “ He said finally and Geralt grabbed the bridle and turned his mere around. The tenderness – despite the fact that this Jaskier clearly didn’t like him – brought back a familiar ache into his chest. He heard him start the song from the beginning and he led Roach farther and farther away.

The wind carried Jaskier’s voice after him for a long time.

*

Geralt thought about their chance meeting with Jaskier and wondered over and over again if his wish made things better or worse.

This Jaskier had a stronger appearance, but it was also harder, like someone who was shaped this way by life, compared to his cheery bard who wasn’t stupid by a far throw, but always found hope in any situation; this Jaskier was not looking for hope, he was simply ready for whatever came, good or bad.

On the other hand he lived a safer life, behind walls, amongst his own kind, where he was just as appreciated as he was when he was his barker. In the past year of his travels Geralt heard about the bard nearly as much, as he used to when travelling together. He made fame to himself even without the witcher.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

If he’d do all of this back – and this wasn’t to say that he wanted to – he could save Borch’s hatchling and making his Child Surprise born. It would also bring back his bond with Yennefer – maybe she was the one best off not meeting him. So nothing really changed since the last time he was thinking about this. Some things were better, some things were worse. So essentially it was still the same.

Yet ever since he met the Jaskier of this reality, he didn’t feel like it was the same at all. Somehow this whole thing felt wrong, like a door that still worked as much as one needed it to work, but it was loose on its hinges, threatening to fall off any minute.

Geralt might have missed Jaskier and the bard might have been a tougher, harder person here. But it was still Jaskier and he was _safe_. Knowing that should be enough.

Except he caught himself longing for his old life not once, since their meeting in the woods. But despite all of the other outcomes of his wish, Jaskier was not a sufferer of anything and Geralt had no reason to feel like he should change back anything. He supposed it was easier this way, without his responsibilities and Jaskier being in constant mortal peril, mixed with the turmoil in his own head that he just couldn’t quieten down, no matter what.

It would be actually selfish to change things back. Wouldn’t it?

*

Borch sat down opposite him, ripping him out of his musings.

“Geralt.” He greeted him. “So now you know how things would be different, if you and your bard had never met.”

Geralt grunted in response and Borch waved to the barmaid to ask for two ales.

“Have you given more thought to undo the spell?”

Geralt did in fact give it a lot of thought, but didn’t come up with a decision just yet. On the other hand, he wondered a lot about _how_ to break the spell, if he’d wanted to do so.

He asked Borch as much.

“Well, as I told you, only you can do it. This spell is clinging to ancient magic, sourced from the very core of chaos. So of course if you want to break it,” he sipped on his ale appreciatively “you’d also have to use the most ancient method that can undo many of the oldest spells and curses on the Continent.”

Geralt was almost afraid to ask, but he had to.

“You’re not telling me…”

“I’m afraid I am. You, my friend would have to perform a simple task, with conditions that are truly hard to come by.”

“Damnit.” Geralt cursed and took a long swig of his ale. Borch smiled at him knowingly.

“That is, if you wish to break it.”

Geralt didn’t answer. He’d be lying if he’d say that he wasn’t leaning more towards the idea now, than before meeting Jaskier. But now he wasn’t sure that he would be able to it at all.

“Is there any other way? Anything?”

“Again, I’m afraid not. True love’s kiss is the only way out of this. If you can do that, it’ll turn everything back into the way it was.”

Geralt’s fist tightened around the handle of his tankard.

This was something even more difficult, than the time with the djinn. And now to think about it…

“What about the djinn? I must have found it, even without Jaskier, right?” He was almost sure about this; he only had two thin scars on his forearm where it used to be three. He also found the amphora in one of his saddlebags, unbroken and the seal still intact.

“Yes.”

“Do I have… any more wishes?” It was a long shot, but it could prove useful.

“Yes. First you wished for sleep, then when you woke up two weeks later, you wished your horse back to yourself, as someone had stolen it while you were asleep. You have one more wish.”

Geralt slid past the outcomes of his previous wishes, concentrating on the question at hand.

“Could that work?”

“I’m not certain. Perhaps, but don’t forget how you phrase your wishes; djinns are malicious creatures and this one has been in your slavery for over a decade. If I were you, I wouldn’t use that wish unless it becomes absolutely necessary.” Borch said with a serious glint in his eyes.

Geralt knew he was right, djinns were dangerous creatures on the best of days, but he remembered what it’d done to Jaskier and Yennefer in his own reality, almost killing them both. It might not be the best course of action to wish from this djinn, after finding it and keeping it under seal for this long.

“I’m sure you’ll find the best solution, Geralt.” Borch said before getting up and leaving.

True love’s kiss was – as Borch so eloquently put it – a simple enough task, but to fulfil the conditions was much harder. First of all Geralt wasn’t entirely sure that witchers had true loves in the first place, or if they did in general, there was still no guarantee that _he_ had one.

Yennefer was possibly out of question as their love was awakened by a panicked wish and sealed by Destiny. It felt real in a way, but it wasn’t a deep romantic love. There was passion, of course because he couldn’t deny the physical advances the sorceress possessed, but it wasn’t more than a mixture of regular lust and a sort of love that made him feel like he belonged, like they were family. And so it was easy to mistake it for romantic love. While it was a deeper sense of love that even their last argument couldn’t break up. Somehow Geralt knew he wouldn’t want to end up in bed with her if they’d meet again, but he still wanted her in his life, no matter what.

There was only one possible person who could be his true love, if he indeed had one, but that was way too risky. For one, he never dared to think about Jaskier in a way like that, shutting every stray thought down immediately and for two, he wasn’t sure how would he feel about wishing away his actual one true love.

He needed some rest to figure things out for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt: *wondering if it would be selfish to turn back things*  
> Me murmuring in the background: mate, it was selfish to wish it away


	4. Crawl towards a life of fragile lines and wasted time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some surprising turnouts in this chapter, but I left an almost-explanation in the end notes, just in case.

Geralt travelled on and on for nearly two months, his thoughts encircling the possibilities that could get him back into a reality, where his first meeting with Jaskier has happened in that dirty old tavern in Posada.

Geralt still felt like the logical decision would be to just carry on living this life and forget about Jaskier. Only, there was a strong tugging sensation in his chest that made him turn his horse around and go back to Oxenfurt.

He wasn’t sure what he’s actually going to do, when he got there. But he was sure in one thing; he’ll know when he saw Jaskier.

*

Geralt entered the city and found the inn rather easily. He left Roach behind and gave some coins to the innkeeper to feed her and asked if he could point him into the direction of the bard named Jaskier. The man’s expression turned into a suspicious scowl, which was fair Geralt supposed, as it must not have been common for anyone looking like him to ask after anyone like Jaskier. So hesitantly, but he did tell him to look for the bard at the Academy and explained him the way there.

The building was huge and it was buzzing with students and teachers, in bright and colourful clothes. Geralt quickly realised just how hard was it to spot Jaskier in the mixture of all these noises and smells.

_Luckily_ the bard found him, before he could even sense him.

“You.” Geralt heard from behind his back and as he turned, Jaskier stood there with an annoyed expression and his arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I… came for you.” Geralt said honestly and Jaskier sighed. He turned around and waved for him to follow.

After a few minutes of walking up some stairs and passing many doors, they ended up in small room that must have been Jaskier’s office. There were some shelves with books and a desk covered in notes and even more books.

“So you came for me.” Jaskier turned to him, as Geralt shut the door behind himself. “I’m here. What now?”

Geralt contemplated his options and it must have been one of the stupidest decisions of his life – of this life at the very least – but instead of an actual answer he pushed the bard against his desk and kissed him.

For years he pushed away the thought of doing anything like this, ignoring the confusion, the pain and jealousy he felt, when he saw Jaskier philandering around with other people. It might have been stupid to kiss him, but it felt just as liberating.

To his surprise Jaskier kissed back, hungrily, like he was trying to eat him up and Geralt deepened the kiss in answer, burying his fingers in the bard’s soft hair. Geralt grabbed the backside of his thighs and lifted Jaskier up onto the desktop. He stepped between his legs and Jaskier crossed his ankles behind Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, making their groins grinding together.

“Is this what you came for?” Jaskier breathed as he parted from Geralt with hazy eyes.

He couldn’t reply. This wasn’t exactly what he came for, but now he couldn’t really think of anything else he’d rather do. Jaskier smiled at him and pulled him into a passionate kiss again.

They thrusted against each other in a frantic rhythm, the painful friction of the fabric of their pants mixed with the pleasure of the contact. If there was ever any other thought crossing Geralt’s mind that wasn’t chasing completion, it disappeared long before their lips touched again.

When they finished, Geralt felt like coming up for air after being underwater for a long time; or more like breaking free of a spell.

He stepped back a few inches, his thighs still touching Jaskier’s, followed by the bard’s questioning gaze.

Now with a clearer head he concluded a few things. One, Jaskier’s lips were red and swollen and it was still very distracting. Two, this still seemed just as a bad idea now, as it was when he started it. And finally that Jaskier was not his true love.

He placed a hand on Jaskier’s thigh and sighed.

“Why does it always have to be this hard?” Geralt asked, mainly from himself, but Jaskier looked at him and for a second, he thought he recognised his expression, as the knowing smile Borch always sported.

“I’m not sure what you mean. But if I may; are you sure you’re not the one making it this hard?”

Geralt propped his forehead against the bard’s. “You know, you sound exactly like someone I used to know.”

He couldn’t believe that it took him the most irresponsible wish, over a year and this impromptu make out session to finally realise what he had and what he’s lost.

He tried to avoid these feelings for so many years and now they came crashing down on him. Maybe it was just the weird fleeting sensation of this reality or the fact that this Jaskier smelled a little different than his own, but suddenly he wanted nothing more than to run to the end of the world and never return.

“Well that someone must be really clever then.”

“Yeah, he is.” Geralt gave it to him. “Or he used to be anyways.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier cocked his head to the side and Geralt stroked his cheek with his thumb.

“It’s alright. It was my fault.” Geralt averted his gaze.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You’re very generous on my part.” Geralt smiled at him grimly, maybe they had different experiences, but in the core this Jaskier was the same, as his own. “I thought you bore a grudge against witchers.”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully.

“I told you, you’re an odd one.”

“You have no idea.” Geralt said darkly and he finally stepped back, out of Jaskier’s reach.

He had an urge to apologise, although he wasn’t sure what for; for barging into his life or for wishing it away in the first place. He didn’t say any of that.

Jaskier hopped off the desk and Geralt leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto his forehead, then walked out of his office, leaving him behind.

*

Borch was certain that he could turn everything around, but Geralt wasn’t so sure about it anymore. If true love’s kiss was the only thing that could’ve fix their situation, then they might as well give up now.

Geralt decided to take the night in the inn and then leave, for good this time.

Of course things were never really going his way, especially when Jaskier was involved.

In the morning when he was readying Roach for the ride, there were footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Jaskier standing in the stable door with a rather unamused expression on his face.

“Leaving?” He asked irritably and Geralt sighed. It wasn’t working out this way or another.

“Yes.” He grunted out as he fastened the last belt.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s what?” Geralt barked at him and Jaskier stood his gaze.

“This. Us.”

“There is no ‘us’, Jaskier.”

“Why? Because you don’t think you deserve happiness, or because you’re afraid it’ll turn out to be true?” Jaskier’s voice was rising in volume with every word.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it really? Or you’re just deflecting?”

“It is. And what do you care anyways? You don’t even know me.” Geralt spat out as he pulled Roach out of her stable hole.

Jaskier let out a mirthless laugh that chilled Geralt to the bones.

“Oh, I might not know you, but I know your type. Sulking and brooding, trying to scare everyone away who might actually want to get close to you. Meaningless fucks and sneaking out in the dark. You are all growling and big words, but the truth is; you are just _afraid_. You’re too scared to get into anything, because you don’t wanna get hurt. Well, guess what. No one _wants_ to get hurt! But this is how life works. Sometimes you have to fall to the ground, so someone can help you up.”

Geralt suddenly felt like the day before, when he walked into Jaskier’s office; the impossible urge to just kiss the bard was stronger than him yet again. He couldn’t stop himself, because this Jaskier rumbled just as his own did and he wanted to silence him this way so many times and somehow the not knowing gave him freedom to do as he pleased; now that there wasn’t a two decades long friendship on the line.

Jaskier relaxed into the kiss.

“You’re an idiot.” Jaskier mumbled onto his lips and Geralt hugged him around his waist.

“If you’re so clever, tell me what are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Jaskier didn’t seem angry anymore, just confused. It was good, Geralt could work with that.

Geralt took both of his wrists into his hands and tugged him along, until they were sitting on a bale of hay.

“You don’t know me.”

“And I won’t, if you won’t let me.”

Geralt just sighed; stubborn as ever.

“Listen, what do expect me to do? You think I can just stay here, settle down and play house with you, until you grow old?”

Jaskier’s face darkened and Geralt could see that it was exactly what he was hoping for.

“I have a path to take and it’s much safer for you here.”

“And what if I’d come with you?”

“No.”

“You can’t just decide that alone!”

“Yes, I can. You don’t know me, but you know who I am. Don’t you?” Geralt asked softer this time.

“I knew when I first saw you. The white haired witcher; the Butcher of Blaviken.” Jaskier answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Geralt nodded like he just proved his point.

“You told me about the witcher you saw. Could you live a life like that?”

Jaskier averted his gaze to inspect his boots.

“Are _you_ living a life like that?”

Geralt shook his head.

“Not exactly. But I kill monsters for a living. This is what I do, you can’t tail after me like that.”

Geralt messed up a lot of things in his own reality and apparently in this one as well, but one thing was certain; if he could help it, he wanted this Jaskier to stay where he is, behind safe walls.

They were quiet for a few minutes until Jaskier whispered finally.

“Can’t you just stay here a little longer then?”

This was not what Geralt expected, but it spoke volumes that he was even considering it. A few more days in one place couldn’t hurt anyone, this was something that he never let himself experience before and the temptation to be with Jaskier – only if for a fleeting time – was greater than what he could resist.

He nodded and a wide grin stretched across Jaskier’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might seem a little weird that suddenly this Jaskier was so eager to be with Geralt, even though he seemed to be pretty annoyed by him up until now, but I promise there is a reason for it, you just have to wait and see! ;)


	5. As one reminds the other of past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much just a bridge, nothing really happens, on the other hand we get to have a glance into this Jaskier’s past.

From the promised days became weeks and months. Every time Geralt made up his mind and readied his horse, Jaskier asked him to stay longer and he couldn’t say no. Every time he decided to go, he left behind more and more belongings in Jaskier’s little house, his heart not being in leaving in the first place.

The days were getting longer and time has started to make sense again. It was easy to settle into a life like this; a roof over their heads, enough food and coin, even without Geralt taking more than a handful of contracts in the area.

It was a different life than what he was used to, with Jaskier by his side. For times he could almost forget how this thing came to be, but mostly it was a bittersweet ambivalence. On one hand, he had a life where he could be with Jaskier, touching him and show him the affection he denied from them both over their time together on the road. On the other hand, it wasn’t the Jaskier he felt those affections for.

Sure, he liked this one too, he was a little bit rougher, more outwardly serious; he knew that his own Jaskier had it in him as well, he just always enjoyed a joyous display more. This Jaskier however smiled less and if he sung any jigs, they were never his own; he only ever wrote ballads.

*

On most nights, Geralt watched Jaskier performing to a room full of people. He tried to stay out of sight as much as possible, but words travelled faster than anything and by now most everyone knew that the famous bard Jaskier has kept a witcher’s company. Some people looked at them in awe, some of them scattered away in fear, but many of them looked at Jaskier like he was insane, or bewitched. The bard just brushed all of it off with cold ease and they’ve settled into a ragged routine.

Jaskier taught at the Academy and Geralt took care of smaller issues in the area of the city, never gone for long enough to break away. He came home to Jaskier’s little house and they ate together, slept together, talked and sat in silence. It was almost convenient. Except that every time Geralt looked into those bright blue irises, he saw someone who wasn’t there. He was a bodily reminder of what he had lost. No it wasn’t the right word, he didn’t _lose_ Jaskier, he pushed him away, he destroyed what they had, because he thought it was too painful to handle then and only after all of it had he realised that it was even more painful without him.

Geralt learned to like, hell, even love this Jaskier too. Of course he did, he was a different person than what Geralt had known, but he _was_ Jaskier; everything he loved the bard for was echoed in this Jaskier’s movements and words and there was nothing else left for him. He made so many mistakes along the way, yet this one, this foolish wish seemed to rule over all.

He didn’t just give up Jaskier, he gave up everything else with him. His willingness to move, to fight. He stayed here, just to grasp at the last hope, the last reminder of what he had done.

Geralt knew that he supposed to be happy, after all this was a second chance he didn’t deserve. But he wasn’t. Maybe there was really nothing that could ever make him happy, or not anymore anyways.

“You alright?”

They were sitting in the back garden, which became sort of a habit of them, something they did before going to bed together nearly every night. Geralt has been eyeing the peppers by the far fence for a while now, not saying a word.

“Hm.”

This Jaskier didn’t understand him from noncommittal noises as well as the other, so he interpreted his tone as a questioning one and answered in kind.

“You seem to be deeply in thought. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to distract you? I could tell you a story, that normally works with everyone.”

“Hm.”

“Anything you want to hear.”

Geralt thought about it for a few moments.

“Tell me about you. Have you always wanted to be a professor?”

If Jaskier found the request peculiar, he didn’t show it.

“No, actually.” He leaned back against the uneven wall of the house and looked up at the sky thoughtfully. “When I was eighteen I wanted to be a travelling bard, you know see the world and sing about it.”

“What happened?” Geralt found himself asking, without really meaning to. But he might as well find out what happened, after their un-happened first meeting.

“I actually travelled for a couple of months, you know, but one night in a tavern someone has taken my bags, while I was playing. I lost my money, pretty much everything I had, but it wasn’t what did it.” Jaskier said gravely and Geralt just raised an eyebrow questioningly. “That was the night, when I saw a witcher, for the first time.”

Geralt should have known that it’ll be part of the story, but in the last few months he nearly forgot about their first meeting, in the forest.

“I was trying to earn back the money I’ve lost, when someone barged through the door. He was drenched in blood and his eyes were… so empty. I heard tales about witchers before, so when I saw the medallion I knew.” Jaskier took a deep breath and Geralt waited for him to continue, he could smell the pain the memory brought up in the bard. “I don’t remember too much. One second I was singing, the next… I was hiding under a table. He went completely berserk, cutting through anyone and everyone who came near.”

A dark, heavy silence fell on them and Geralt watched as the bard’s eyes travelled far into pictures, he couldn’t see. Jaskier continued at last.

“After that I went back to Lettenhove. I stayed at court and my father never missed a chance to mention just how foolish the idea of leaving was in the first place.” His voice was bitter and his face became unreadable. “When I got the offer to teach here, I took it straight away and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Did you ever regret it? Not going back out into the world?” Geralt asked absentmindedly; he was thinking about the young Jaskier trembling under a table in the middle of a massacre and thought about how he should have been there, to protect him.

Jaskier finally looked back at him and his expression was harder than Geralt has ever seen it.

“No. I might be able to defend myself against a few rogues, but this world is not suited for me to travel alone. The things lurking outside of these walls in the night are vicious and wild. My father was right about that much; it was a foolish idea.”

Geralt didn’t say anything to that, just leaned back and looked up at the stars covering the sky, trying to find what Jaskier was seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This conversation was literally just a way for me to expose some facts about this Jaskier, before we jump into the next painful chapter.


	6. Can you guess that I'll be gone with the twilight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance.

After four months have passed like this, one night everything changed.

It turned out that Geralt could get a serious contract even in a peaceful place like Oxenfurt. A nobleman who owned lands outside of the city walls hired him, to deal with a pack of nasty wargs. It was a rather good payment too, although that was probably due to the fact that everyone loved Jaskier around here and everyone _knew_ that they were acquaintances – most people not even suspecting the nature of their relationship.

It supposed to be an easy enough job to deal with, yet somehow it went horribly, horribly wrong.

*

The sky was deep blue as the night fell on the city. Geralt was feeding Roach, as he listened to Jaskier, who was sitting in the entrance of their little stable and singing a song Geralt heard so many times over these months; he could recite the lyrics by heart.

It was the most painful song Geralt ever heard the bard sing in either realities. He sung about a love, unrequited, unreachable, yet powerful and unbreakable.

“You must’ve loved this one more than the others.” Geralt noted as he walked over to him.

Jaskier lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

“I know your songs, your words. This is something personal.”

Jaskier sighed and looked up at the starry sky with a sorrowful expression.

“It’s not about _someone._ ” He started thoughtfully. “Well, it is, but I don’t know _who_. I had this feeling, ever since I was young that there supposed to be someone. Someone I didn’t notice or missed by chance, a person who slipped away from my fingers. An important person.”

Geralt tried very hard not to think it was supposed to be him. Gods, please give that it wasn’t him.

“I know it’s stupid. It’s just a feeling, but… I can’t get it out of my head.”

“It’s not stupid.” Geralt told him quietly.

It has been months and he never told Jaskier why he was here in the first place. He felt it was time.

“Listen, there is something we have to talk about.” He sat down beside Jaskier and he looked at him worriedly.

“Oh, gods Geralt. This is just the worst thing you can say to someone.” Jaskier said half-jokingly.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’ve asked me back then, why did I come back. And I told you, I came for you.” Jaskier looked like he wanted to cut in, so he quickly barrelled on. “It was true. But it isn’t the whole truth.”

“Geralt, you’re scaring me.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, before he continued.

“I made a mistake and it didn’t exactly involve you at first, but it does now. I’m coming from a reality, where you and I have known each other for not months, but decades.”

“What does that even mean? What happened?” He asked confusedly.

“It means. It means that I fucked up, okay? I made a stupid wish and I ended up here.”

“A wish?” Jaskier asked with growing suspicion.

“I wished that we’d never met and this is exactly what happened. I came here to you, because the only thing that could break the spell is true love’s kiss and I thought, maybe you were my… but as you can see, nothing changed.”

They sat there in silence for a while, there were many emotions shifting over Jaskier’s face, most of them unrecognisable for Geralt.

“I take it back. This is the worst thing you can tell someone.”

“Jaskier I–” Geralt tried, but Jaskier stomped on his words with the increasing volume of his own.

“So what? What do you want from me now? You wished me out of your life and then when the first kiss didn’t do anything what were you thinking then? Why the hell did you stick around?”

Jaskier asked many questions, but didn’t give a chance for Geralt to answer any of them.

“If you want to leave, just go, I won’t stop you anymore. In fact, I can’t even look at you right now.” He hugged himself and walked back into the house, leaving his precious lute by the bale he propped it against.

Geralt sighed. Why was it that he couldn’t make it right in any reality with Jaskier?

He patted Roach and pulled her out of the stable. He hoped Jaskier would be more approachable in the morning; he couldn’t let down two Jaskiers.

*

He rode out to the field his contract led him and dismounted Roach in a safer distance, then ventured out onto the field by the edge of the forest to find those wargs. The moon shone brightly on the sky and with Geralt’s enhanced vision, he could see almost as clearly as in daylight.

Geralt sniffed into the air. He could distinguish four different smells that belonged to the beasts, it didn’t mean there weren’t any more nearby, merely that there was only four coming around the fields. He listened for unusual noises and he picked up growling and paws moving slowly in the dirt about sixty feet away from himself.

He unsheathed his sword and made a few quiet steps towards the woods, still intently listening to anything moving around him. He was about thirty feet from the beasts now; he couldn’t just hear their rapid heartbeats and quick breaths, but he could also see them through the low bushes.

Suddenly he picked up another, much slower heartbeat; a human one. A familiar one.

“Damnit.” Geralt cursed under his breath. _For Jaskier to be the same irresponsible idiot in any reality._

Geralt was too close to the wargs to signal him to turn around, so the only thing he could do is to attack them before they’d notice Jaskier.

But it was too late.

“Geralt! Geralt, I just want to talk!” As he started to shout, the wargs turned their monstrous snouts in his direction and started to run.

Geralt launched after them, but they had a few feet advantage on him. He caught the last two with a swift swing of his sword and jumped on the back of the one in front of them, pushing his weapon through its scull, killing it instantly.

First he heard a shout, then growling and suddenly everything seemed slower, the world coming to a standstill as the wolfish beast jumped on Jaskier’s chest and toppled him over, biting into his neck without hesitation.

Geralt was sure it wasn’t more than a second, but it felt like standing there for an hour, before he caught up to them and ran his sword through the beast’s ribcage, throwing it off of Jaskier’s body. It landed on the ground with a loud thud and a pitiful whimper and it never moved again.

Geralt kneeled down beside Jaskier and he pulled him onto his thighs, trying to apply pressure at the gaping wound on his neck, but it just would work.

“Geralt” Jaskier croaked, as blood slowly started to trickle down from the corner of his mouth, Geralt wiped at it with his thumb, smearing it onto his cheek.

“You fool. Why did you come after me?” He asked weakly and watched Jaskier trying to fix his eyes on his face, but they were hazy from his rapid blood loss, making it hard for him to focus.

Jaskier made wet gulping noises with every inhale and wheezing sounds with every exhale, but what scared Geralt the most is they were getting slower and slower. Geralt’s hands were slick with Jaskier’s blood, making it hard to hold his head in place, but he won’t let go now. He couldn’t just let him die, especially not right after he just told him that he wished him away and out of his life.

But there was nothing he could do, than to stay by his side. As he watched him writhing in his arms and blood gurgling through his fingers with Jaskier’s every heartbeat, Geralt remembered the times they’ve spend together; with this Jaskier and with the other. He tried to memorise his smile, in contrast of his expression right now, distorted by pain.

Death was a constant part of Geralt’s life and that wasn’t something that changed, even here. But it didn’t make it any easier to deal with it. Watching the life leaving Jaskier’s body and staring into his empty eyes was undoubtedly the most painful thing he ever had to experience.

Geralt hugged the bard’s body to his chest, smearing the blood from his clothes unto his own and planted a soft kiss into his hair that still smelled of soap under the metallic stench of blood.

One more life lost to his irresponsible wish.

The moon was high on the sky and he sat under its light and watched as it painted the pool of red around them black.

_What now?_


	7. If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts a little confusing, but hopefully everything will be much clearer by the end.
> 
> Also I would like to thank all of you for keep reading and commenting, it means more to me than you can imagine. Love you all!

Jaskier spent nearly two days walking down from the mountains. So he would very well would like to know why did he turn around just before he reached the bottom.

Because he was confident that it wasn’t his brightest idea, for sure.

But the thing was, he was thinking about what Geralt said to him and Jaskier was almost sure he didn’t mean it, or well if he did at the moment, maybe he calmed down enough since to take back Jaskier. And again, he didn’t know why that would be a good idea in the first place.

Jaskier tailed after Geralt for over two decades now and all he got from the witcher was rough treatment and harsh words. But of course, there were good times too. And he knew this was the real reason why he turned around. The memories were keep penetrating his mind.

He remembered soft smiles around the camp fire, teasing looks over taverns as he performed, inside jokes, times when they shared a room and as soon as Geralt took off his shirt Jaskier would ask about his scars and with a resigned sigh Geralt would answer him anyway, letting Jaskier trace his fingers over them ever so lightly. The very few times, when Geralt would help him with a rhyme, when he was stuck with a new song. Small things, tiny affections.

There were instances that the bard couldn’t actually explain, but thought them significant nonetheless; the look on Geralt’s face when Jaskier’s got injured and after when he patched him up, the expression on his face, when Jaskier flirted with someone. The way he pretended not to care for Jaskier’s songs when he sung for coin in the taverns, but on the road when he thought Jaskier couldn’t see, his face softened as he listened to them.

Fuck. He had to get back on the top of that mountain.

*

When he finally got to the top, Geralt wasn’t there. There was no way he could’ve avoided Jaskier on his way down, well alright, there was, since Jaskier was a human and Geralt was a well-trained, sneaky witcher. But still, he didn’t think that was the case at all.

He walked up to the mouth of the cave and there was a curious scene in front of his eyes.

The dragon egg was still intact and vibrant red, beside it sat Borch in a comfortable position on the ground with his eyes closed and it reminded Jaskier of the witcher when he was meditating. Just a few feet away he saw Geralt, who was lying on the floor, his head propped up with some sort of bundled up fabric, possibly his own bedroll.

“Come on in, Jaskier.” Borch said softly, still making Jaskier jump a little for the sudden notion.

“Uh, I’m just… am I interrupting something?” He asked carefully, remembering how grumpy Geralt could get sometimes, when he broke him out of his meditative state.

“Not at all.” Borch said kindly and opened his eyes slowly, as Jaskier walked closer to him. “It was time you came back.”

“Pardon?” He asked, as he pulled his head through the strap of his lute case.

“There is something you should know about, as you are part of it, even though there isn’t much you could offer.” He explained slowly, although Jaskier couldn’t really understand what he was getting at.

Jaskier sat down beside him.

“So let me get this straight. Geralt hates me _so much_ that he wished me out of his life entirely?” Jaskier asked, feeling more shocked than sad. He could never imagine Geralt doing anything so drastic; sure he had a reputation to wish first and think later, but still.

“He does not hate you, quite the contrary. He’s got a hard time dealing with his emotions is all.” Borch said ever so patiently and Jaskier stayed silent for a minute, trying to understand what he meant. In any case, _hard time_ was quite an understatement.

“So wait. If he wished that we’d never met, how come we’re still here? I mean, no offence but your dragon voodoo must not be that potent then.”

Borch sighed and the bard almost felt bad about nagging him, but he was the one who involved Jaskier, so he might as well explain it properly then.

“It did work, it just hasn’t become permanent yet. You see, Geralt’s mind is in another reality, where you two haven’t met, but this reality still exists as long as the spell don’t take.”

Jaskier nodded eagerly. “What?”

“Geralt has one more day there, to experience the life without meeting you and to decide to return here or stay here. If he does not return, this reality will cease to exist and it’ll give way to the other one.” Borch said in a cheery tone and Jaskier grimaced. _Just what did Geralt get them into this time?_

“And you’re fine performing magic that would kill all of us just like that?” He snapped his fingers for demonstration.

“It won’t kill anyone. We’ll just cease to exist in the first place.”

“Oh well then, it’s all alright.” Jaskier spat, his voice dripping with venom. _Great, just fucking great._

“I wouldn’t worry too much, it should teach him a valuable lesson.”

“Teaching him a lesson? By giving up all of our existences? Don’t you think it’s a little steep?” Jaskier ranted with panic creeping into his voice.

“It might seem as such. But reality is ever so fluid and much less tangible than you’d think. Things might change, or they might stay the same, but essentially the only thing constant is chaos.”

“That’s great, thanks.” Jaskier flopped back onto the hard ground, into the red dust on the floor of the cave, his limbs stretched out. “So you’re telling me I might stop existing, but it’s okay because I never really existed in the first place?” He mused, less upset than he thought he should have been.

“Not at all, much on the contrary.”

Jaskier didn’t move much, but he turned his head to look at him, his hair sweeping in the dust.

“You see, we all exist in countless forms, but we can only grasp one flow of life with our minds.” Jaskier had the feeling when Borch said 'our' what he really meant was 'all mortals, except me', but he let it slide. He sighed and Borch continued. “If I to stand up now and walk out of the cave or to just talk about it are both a flow of events, but I can only decide to do one at the time, as nor me nor anyone on this plane would be able to process multiple realities at once. But both actions are a possibility.”

“So wait.” Jaskier sat up, dust flying from his hair. “How is Geralt experiencing both? I mean his body is here, but you said what he wished for is also real.”

“It is. He’s on the edge of two possible worlds and as I said before, if he won’t find his solution soon, that possibility will erase this one.” He said this all with the calm of a man, who wasn’t about to be erased and Jaskier huffed.

He didn’t want to lose this life and memories. He supposed the change of worlds wouldn’t be painful physically, not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t remember at all, but he liked that he met Geralt, even if the witcher seemed to be on a different opinion.

He hugged his knees to his chest, thinking deeply.

Was there anything he could do or should he just wait and trust Geralt to come back? What if he wasn’t even looking for a solution in the first place? After all, he must have wanted Jaskier out of his life more than anything, if he was willing to turn to magical devices.

*

Geralt was cradling Jaskier’s body, motionless for a long time. How could he have let him down twice in one day? If he could just undo everything, but there was no way.

A fuzzy thought occurred to him and suddenly he remembered something Borch had told him months ago.

_If I were you, I wouldn’t use that wish unless it becomes absolutely necessary._

He laid Jaskier’s body on the ground softly and scrambled to his feet. He didn’t know if it’d work, but he didn’t have anything left to lose.

He walked over to where he left Roach and rummaged through the saddlebags, until he found the small amphora with the magic seal. He took a deep breath, then he pulled the seal open.

The djinn’s black, smoky body emerged with a horrible force, nearly sweeping him off of his feet.

“Djinn! Grant my last wish and you’ll be free!” Geralt shouted into the air.

The djinn made a deep, growling sound and Geralt put all of his last hope into his next sentence.

*

Geralt pulled Jaskier’s lifeless body into his arms again, sweeping a few stray hairs out of his eyes; they were sticky with dried blood. In the moonlight he seemed so pale, even under all the blood and dirt.

Suddenly he felt Jaskier’s chest rising with an impossibly deep breath and he started to stir.

“I thought you’d left.” Jaskier croaked.

“I just had a contract.”

“It was tonight?” He asked groggily.

“Yeah.” Geralt answered softly as he draw circles with his thumb on Jaskier’s cheek.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” The bard said, as he sat up and Geralt supported him by his elbow.

“You have nothing to apologise for. It was all my fault.”

“Still.”

There was a beat of silence, as Jaskier tried to adjust to breathing again.

“You know, for a second there I thought I was dead.”

He could clearly see as the understanding dawned on him, when Geralt didn’t answer.

“I was, wasn’t I?” He asked as Geralt got up and helped him onto his feet as well. They started walking back to Roach.

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

For a moment Geralt considered not telling him, but he decided he had quite enough of lying.

“I used my last wish to bring you back to life.”

“Your last wish? Do you have like a djinn or something?”

Geralt helped him onto Roach’s back and looked up at him with a tinge of amusement on his face.

“I do.”

Jaskier looked at him sceptically for a second.

“You know, I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. But first let’s get you back home and then you can ask me anything.”


	8. Can you ever really know?

When Geralt told Jaskier that he could ask anything, he didn’t expect him to ask _everything_.

They’ve spend hours by reciting Geralt’s life with the other Jaskier and the year he spent in this reality, before he met this Jaskier. He told him about the Child Surprise, the djinn and Yennefer, the dragon hunt and Borch. He told him about their first meeting and the elves and everything he remembered his Jaskier telling him about the times they’ve spent separated.

The bard listened to him intently and Geralt tried his best to answer every questions he had about the details. When he finished the story of how he wished him out of his life and told him everything that Borch told him since he was here, a vibrant silence settled on them.

Geralt could practically hear Jaskier thinking, from where he sat opposite him. To his surprise he didn’t seem angry, nor sad, just pensive.

“Do you think… this is why I was drawn to you in the first place?” He asked finally and Geralt just stared at him, not knowing what to say. “I mean, you were right, back then. I didn’t know you, but I felt something, a connection, almost. It was something like getting _so close_ to the solution of a puzzle. Like if I could keep you around, I could finally find an answer.” He explained.

“An answer to what?” Geralt asked, as he pushed back his chair a little.

“I’m not sure.” Jaskier bit down on his bottom lip. “It’s like what I told you about last night. I always had a feeling, that I missed an opportunity, a meeting. It didn’t feel like it was exactly that, but the closest thing I could get, if that makes sense.”

Geralt nodded. He wasn’t sure how or why it was, but he thought it might have been a side effect of meddling with their past. Somehow, this Jaskier felt the moment when they supposed to meet and his heart was still reaching out for it. But it was a longing, he would never be able to satisfy.

As he said, this was the closest thing he could get.

“Do you want me to leave?” Geralt asked quietly. It seemed that Jaskier had no more questions, therefore he owed him no more answers. He’d understand if Jaskier would want him out of his life, after everything.

The bard looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes and Geralt thought about how could he have ever wished for a world without them looking at him like this.

“No.” Jaskier said firmly. “This is not a simple situation, but we’re in it now. I might not be your true love, but I do love you and you can say whatever you want, but you must love me too, if you’d waste your last wish to save my life. Perhaps you don’t love _me_ , but we are the closest thing to find here for each other.”

Geralt studied his face for a long time, without saying a word. He tried to imagine a life, where he would stay here with this Jaskier, watch him grow old, before he’d move on with his path. He had responsibilities as a witcher, but he supposed that included not meddling with time and events and he way past that one. So why not break one more rule?

“Do _you_ want to leave?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt got up from his chair and walked around the table, he kneeled down on the stone floor and levelled with his gaze. He cupped Jaskier’s face into his palms and hoped he could understand how sincere he was, when he said: “No.”

*

Maybe an hour passed by with idle sitting around and Jaskier was itching to do something. The facts were these; Geralt didn’t want him in his life, but in doing so he involuntarily threatened Jaskier to be wiped out entirely. And Geralt might be mad at him, hell despite what Borch said, he might even hate him, but he didn’t want to disappear, no matter what.

“Could I…?” Jaskier trailed off as he turned to Borch tentatively.

“Yes?” He looked at him patiently.

“Talk to him in… there?”

Jaskier still didn’t entirely understand the concept of this whole thing, but if there was a chance that he would cease existing in this form, he sure would like to talk to Geralt about it at least.

“I can give you a brief time there, but nothing more.”

“How brief?”

“Ten minutes, maybe more.”

Jaskier gaped at him. “How in the hell am I supposed to find him and talk to him in _ten minutes_? For all I know we must be on the other side of the Continent.” He said desperately, as he examined the witcher’s form on the ground; he looked like he was simply asleep.

“Well, I suppose that’s true. But what’s only mere minutes in this reality, that’s much more in there.”

Jaskier really started to hate the way he said ‘in there’, like it was all in Geralt’s head and maybe it was, until it’d be finalised that is.

“So how much time would I actually have?”

“I suppose about a day or so.” Borch explained and Jaskier nodded with determination in his eyes. It didn’t sound great, but it was much more plausible.

“That might be enough.”

He only hoped that he could find Geralt in time and get to him before his time would be up.

*

In the morning Geralt woke up with Jaskier in his arms and this much he was accustomed to. But somehow it felt very different than the past few months. It was like a new beginning, something more open and clear.

Up until this point Geralt tried to chase the Jaskier he abandoned in this one and finding them to be two very different persons. At first he felt wrong-footed around this Jaskier, because he looked, talked and walked like the one he knew from another life, but this wasn’t him.

But now he saw that they weren’t actually that different as a whole; sure there were little nuances, habits and traits that his Jaskier didn’t own, but he definitely had the potential.

Now, as he looked at the peaceful face in front of him, he thought maybe he wasn’t that different after all, he was just one of thousands of _what ifs_. This was the Jaskier, he never met and slowly, over time he hoped to get to know him better.

Perhaps he wasn’t the Jaskier he had fallen so many years ago and he wasn’t his true love, but maybe, just maybe he could learn to love him just as much.

Jaskier slowly opened his eyes and his hazy gaze softened, as it landed on Geralt.

“Morning.” He whispered.

“And to you.” Geralt answered and breathed a soft kiss onto his forehead.

He didn’t know if he could ever love him as much as he deserved, but he certainly could try.


	9. But this is all I ever was

As it turned out, Jaskier didn’t have to look for him too long.

He instantly recognised the place he found himself in; it was Oxenfurt and more precisely the Academy.

He expected for this whole thing to have a dream-like quality, but actually it felt just as real, as the cave he just left. He could feel the spring air cooling around him, the light breeze touching his cheeks and the fabric of his clothes under his fingertips.

He reckoned if Geralt would fail to fix things, or decide that he liked his life without him, it was good to know that the world he’ll live in, didn’t change that much. Of course he won’t be the one doing the _living_ exactly, but when that time comes, he probably won’t mind it at all, thanks to the _ceasing to exist_ part.

He was surprised to spot Geralt’s dark attire in the crowd of peacocking bards. He didn’t have a plan, other than finding a way to talk to Geralt and he couldn’t fathom why the witcher was here in the first place.

While there were so many people around he had to behave like the Jaskier they knew. He didn’t know that person, but he supposed that if he was here, he must have been still teaching at the Academy as he did so in a brief time about six years ago.

One thing was certain however, this Jaskier didn’t know Geralt. Or so he thought.

Geralt’s eyes found him and he made his way over through the crowd.

“Are you ready?” He asked in lieu of a greeting, catching Jaskier off-guard.

“For what, exactly?” Jaskier looked at him dumbfounded.

“Come, I have something to show you.” Geralt took him by his wrist and tugged gently, until he started walking on his own.

Geralt led him out of the city, steadily walking towards the forest; actually he was walking towards the spot Jaskier used to come if he was looking for solitude, away from the loud bunch of other bards and students.

The witcher stopped and Jaskier tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

The sun was already setting, painting the entire forest into an orange tinged pink all over. There was a big flat tree trunk, with two cups of what looked like wine and two sets of meat skewers on the top. There was even a candle stick in the middle.

He wanted to ask Geralt just _what the fuck_ , but he thought it might be rude, considering it looked like he just set up dinner for the both of them.

“Geralt, I…. what is this?” He asked with a curious little smile as he wandered closer to the tree trunk that served as a table.

“This is me, saying thank you.”

Okay, Jaskier had zero idea about what was going on. But it seemed like he was having a date with the witcher.

He knew he had an important conversation to make with him later, but why couldn’t he just enjoy this? Especially if he was to be cease to exist soon.

“So what are you saying thank you for?” Jaskier asked as he bit down on a bit of meat from the skewer, it was cold, but actually much more delicious than what they normally had when they camped out in the wild.

“For all these few months. I know it wasn’t always smooth, but if it weren’t for you I think… I already told you this, but it was a stupid wish. But despite everything, I still met _you_.”

Jaskier nodded silently, not knowing what to say. It sounded very much like Geralt started some sort of relationship with the Jaskier-he-didn’t-meet, which was big hypocrisy on his part in Jaskier’s opinion, because he couldn’t just wish him out of existence to be with him anyway.

Not to mention that apparently this Jaskier knew about the wish and was still fine with it somehow.

He should’ve brought up the topic by now, yet they ate everything, they drank the wine and Jaskier still didn’t say anything.

Geralt seemed freer somehow and Jaskier kind of liked that, even if he was getting increasingly angrier as time passed.

After their dinner, they retreated to Jaskier’s little house, which was luckily the very same as he knew it from his own reality. If Geralt suspected foul play he didn’t say anything.

Jaskier looked around curiously, he saw Roach tied out in a small stable by the house and as they entered, he could also see small signs that made the place look very much like Geralt was spending a lot of time here. Almost like he lived here.

He thought about how to broach the subject, because he only had a couple of hours left, at the very best. But seeing this life, seeing everything until now, it seemed like Geralt found a sort of happiness, he was never able to in their own reality. It should make Jaskier happy for him, but there was a pang of betrayal in his chest, thinking about how it could have been with him, _it was with him_.

He needed time to think, at least a little bit.

He walked outside, into the little garden at the back. To his surprise it looked much nicer than he remembered; then again when he was teaching at Oxenfurt he didn’t mean to stay too long, this Jaskier however seemed to inhabit this house for a long time now. The garden was full of flowers and there were even a few vegetable stalls by the back fence. There were also two bales of hay with flattened out tops, which were probably used instead of actual chairs.

Geralt walked outside behind him and it did little good to Jaskier’s thinking.

“Are you alright? You seem different.” The witcher said tentatively and Jaskier wondered just how could he tell.

“Yeah, it’s because I am. I mean different.” He really wished Geralt would have given him at least a few minutes to come up with a way to talk to him, now he had to improvise. “I wanted to talk to you, about this.” He made a vague gesture with his wrist, indicating everything in this reality, but Geralt didn’t seem to catch on.

“What do you mean?”

Jaskier sighed.

“ _It’s me_ , Geralt. I know about the wish.”

Geralt frowned at him confusedly for a couple of seconds, but then his expression turned into an angry scowl.

“So I wish you out of my life and yet you still come after me?” He asked with clear frustration in his voice and Jaskier could feel it rise in his own chest too.

“Yeah, but if we’re on the topic, what were you doing in Oxenfurt in the first place? It doesn’t seem to me like _I_ was the one seeking _you_ out.” Jaskier retorted and Geralt just continued scowling at him. Two can play this game.

Geralt growled at him.

“What do I have to do to finally get rid of you?”

“Not dating me would be task number one!” Jaskier screamed at his face and for that Geralt seemingly froze, shutting his mouth with an audible click. They stood there, eyeing each other, Jaskier breathing heavily in anger and Geralt dropping his shoulders in surrender.

“Fine. You’re right.”

“What? Just like that?” Jaskier asked. He was so surprised for a moment there, he almost forgot to be furious with the witcher.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sat down on one of the hay bales with a big thump. “I should’ve stayed away from you, here and there too.”

“Geralt…”

“I thought it would be better if we’d never met, but it turned out to be the contrary, and not just for me. Maybe the only one better off would be you, actually. And now even that’s not true, because I couldn’t keep away.”

Jaskier sat down beside him softly.

“Do you want it to be back to normal?”

Geralt stayed silent for a few seconds, then he sighed deeply and looked up at Jaskier.

“I’m not sure.”

Jaskier waited for him to give him a reason, biting down on his bottom lip hard to keep back from shouting at him. _How can you not be sure? You just said I was right!_

“There I have a Child Surprise and I broke Yennefer’s heart and… here you are living behind safe walls and we are something I never thought we could be.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jaskier asked barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know, I only ever started it because…” Geralt swallowed the end of the sentence and this got Jaskier curious. He was only guessing what could have happened in this reality that would make Geralt start anything with Jaskier, if he never showed any interest in theirs, where they actually known each other.

“Because of what? Talk to me, Geralt.” Jaskier said softly.

“Because I thought you might be… because Borch said there was only one way to break the spell and I…”

Jaskier tried to put the pieces together, but it was hard with so little details. He had one question though.

“You wanted to break the spell?”

“Yes. “

This was way more confusing than it should have been. Of course Geralt wasn’t the best in communication as ever, but Jaskier’s head started to pound from this conversation.

“But you just said, you weren’t sure what you want.”

“I’m not!” Geralt got up abruptly and Jaskier followed in a swift motion.

“Gods Geralt, can you just fucking tell me what’s going in on your thick head?”

“Fine. I made a mistake and I miss my old life and the old you. But I could never have this with you there. Because here, everything feels temporary and it sounds stupid, but the thought of losing this Jaskier was not that numbing than if it was you. But it is you, in a way.”

Jaskier stayed silent for long moments after that. Contemplating what he could even say to that.

“If you were so afraid to lose me, why did you wish me away?” He asked finally, not caring anymore how wounded he sounded.

“I thought it would be better for everyone.”

“Well, glad you could make that decision for _all of us_!”

“Jaskier, it’s not that simple!”

“Oh, isn’t it? Because I think it’s very fucking simple _not_ to wish people out of existence!”

“I didn’t wish you out of existence, just out of my life!”

“Yeah, but did you think about me when you did that? Because guess what, the life you left behind is _still there_ and if you don’t break the spell soon, this here will become permanent and everything from _our life_ will disappear, including _me_.” Jaskier couldn’t hold back the angry tears and even if his voice was cracking here and there, he stood Geralt’s gaze.

“I’m sorry.” The witcher said finally.

“Well, I’m afraid that just won’t be enough anymore.” Jaskier said as he wiped at his face with quick, sharp movements.

“I tried to break it.” Geralt sat down again, defeated. “That’s why I came here. Borch said… he said true love’s kiss was the only thing that could turn everything back to normal, but.”

“You thought…” Jaskier stopped with the wiping motions and looked at him incredulously. “You thought I was your true love?”

“Well, there were only two choices and Yen and I were only bound by magic.”

Jaskier stared at him; he had no idea what to say to that. Until now he thought Geralt hating him got them into this mess in the first place, but now he remembered what Borch had told him.

_He does not hate you, quite the contrary. He’s got a hard time dealing with his emotions is all._

“It doesn’t matter, I was wrong.” Geralt shook his head.

Jaskier nodded for himself with determination. Maybe it was stupid and it will all blow up in his face, but if he was about to disappear, there wasn’t much left to lose.

He strode over to Geralt and kneeled on the ground in front of him, he cupped the witcher’s face into his palms, tipping it upwards, making their eyes meet.

“Maybe you weren’t wrong about me being your true love, maybe it was just the wrong me.” He whispered and with closed eyes, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto Geralt’s lips.


	10. Don't tell me that I've changed because that's not the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For each and every one of you who's been reading until now; thank you! Love you all and hope you'll like this chapter, as it is the very last.
> 
> I left some notes and fun facts at the end, if you're interested.

“Welcome back, Geralt of Rivia.” He heard Borch’s voice, before he opened his eyes and found his view filled with the ceiling of a cave. He looked around hazily and he saw the dragon, sitting beside his egg and not far from him, there was Jaskier, looking a little dazed himself, but otherwise alright.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked gruffly as he sat up. His whole body felt rigid.

“You broke the spell.” Borch said as he shot a glance towards Jaskier meaningfully, the bard just blinked at him sheepishly. “It will be alright. I told you, didn’t I?”

“If you knew what’s going to happen, why did you let me go through with the wish in the first place?” Geralt asked angrily, looking around for his swords and finding them on the ground by the wall, not far from him.

“Some things must happen, so you can learn from them, even if they don’t make a difference on a grand scale.”

Geralt just growled in response. Fucking dragons and their fucking wisdom. Borch was right in one thing though; he was sure as hell won’t let himself make the same mistake again and alter events with magical aid.

He got up from the ground and collected his belongings. He looked over to the bard, who was sitting in the dust with his lute on his back and saying nothing, but following his every movement with his eyes.

Geralt was glad that he got his life back, even though he was the one wishing it away in the first place. He felt a little weird thinking fondly about the other Jaskier, here. If what Jaskier said was true, than that reality stopped existing the moment he returned into this one. What he felt for him was a less powerful version of the same love he felt for his Jaskier and knowing that he ceased to exist wasn’t exactly something easy to digest. Even if he knew, in normal circumstances he would’ve never even met him, the thought that he didn’t get a chance to say goodbye left him bitter somehow.

Everything felt fuzzy, his thoughts and his emotions were blurring together into a big incomprehensible mess.

Jaskier scrambled onto his feet with a scowl on his face and turned to Borch.

“Well, thank you for the life threatening and very valuable lesson, but I must be on my way now, before anything other _magical_ could happen.” He eyed the dragon egg for a moment, before he turned to the mouth of the cave and strode through it.

Geralt sighed and looked at the dragon. He wanted to be furious with him, but if he just played his cards right, he might have gained him the opportunity to have something special with his Jaskier, after all this commotion that the past two years have been for him.

He walked after the bard, still feeling Borch’s eyes on his back.

Geralt caught up to Jaskier with quick steps, but they walked in silence for a long while.

They made camp when the sun started to paint the sky pink and they didn’t say a word until they finished their dinner. It must have been the longest time he hasn’t heard the bard talking.

Jaskier was picking at the fire with a long stick and sighed. Geralt held his breath in anticipation.

“I know we’re gonna have to talk about this. Soon.” Jaskier said slowly and Geralt grunted in response, sounding as agreeing as he possibly could. “But for now there is just one thing I’d like to know.” Jaskier lifted up his index finger, pointing at him above the fire.

“What is it?” Geralt asked softly and raised his eyebrows.

“What changed? You wished me away, even though you thought I might be your true love.” He started sheepishly and buried his gaze into the embers. “So. Why did you wanna break the spell then? Why did you change your mind?”

Geralt sighed. He collected his thoughts, trying to find the way to explain it the best he could.

“I… before, for years I thought.” This wasn’t working. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I knew what I felt for you, I just pushed it aside, because I didn’t wanna end up hurting, when you died of my fault, because I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough or… Jaskier, you’re a human and as such, you are fragile and short-lived in this world.”

“Gee, thanks Geralt.” Jaskier grimaced and dropped the stick into the flames, on top of the other kindling.

Geralt got up from where he was sitting and made his way over to him. He sat down beside Jaskier, trying to maintain a little distance for the bard’s sake.

“No, you don’t understand. If you were living a different life, a safer life. But I let you tag along for years and I just knew if I’d let anything happen between the two of us, it would make everything a thousand times worse when I lost you.”

Being this honest was something he wasn’t sure he would be able to accomplish before this wish. But he was tired of hiding and lying. He just wanted Jaskier back the way they were before, or maybe not exactly like that, maybe closer, much closer.

“Geralt.” Jaskier placed his hand on his upper arm and talked tenderly. Geralt watched mesmerised as the warm light gave an orange tint to his features. “You cannot keep away from good things, because you’re afraid they might hurt you in the end. Sure, love can be painful and losing someone can feel like losing a limb. But would you be really alright if I’d die tomorrow and you never told me? You never kissed me? Would it be so much better losing me then? Because I’m sorry, but _you are going to lose me_ eventually. Just how long would you regret not taking my hand when you had the chance?”

Jaskier squeezed his arm and then he let go. Geralt couldn’t find the words, any words. He grabbed Jaskier and pulled him into a hard hug, burying his face into the bard’s neck, taking a deep breath laced with the bard’s familiar scent, something he missed a lot in the past two years.

“You know, you never actually answered me.” Jaskier said as they pulled apart.

“I was afraid if I ever started anything, it would be like making a promise and I wasn’t sure I could keep it and hiding it made it hard to deal with. With everything else going on, the Child Surprise, the djinn… It was just too much. I just wanted to be rid of all of it.” Geralt said slowly. “I was a fool to think it unbearable, just because it’s complicated. Now I know it’s all worth the effort.” He said and he leaned in to kiss him softly.

When he pulled back, Jaskier smiled at him with such tenderness, it made Geralt’s heart ache.

The two years he spent in that other reality left a deep mark on him without a question and he knew he’s got a lot to make up for in this life. But if he just had the opportunity, just a fleeting chance to show Jaskier how he truly felt, he would grab it and never let go.

For most of his life, he thought that true love’s kiss belonged into fairy tales, alongside with human kindness, selfless heroes and happy endings. And maybe they weren’t real for everyone, but as he looked over to Jaskier beside him, he wanted to believe that they could have their own happy ending. If this reality was their own fairy tale, then he was glad they just started writing it. There were many romantic adventures in their way for Jaskier to sing about and Geralt truly hoped that after it was over, he could look back and feel the warmth of love in his chest, just as he did now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, as promised here are some fun facts:  
> 1\. Geralt still doesn’t know that only five days have passed or that there was a time limit at all; that is until Jaskier tells him later.  
> 2\. Yennefer was in fact still looking for a cure and as hard as I was thinking about how to implement her into the story, I just don’t think they would ever actually meet if not for Jaskier.  
> 3\. It’s implied, but not stated explicitly, so just so you all know; since Ciri hasn’t been born and Duny has died, there were still illegitimate rulers in Nilfgaard who had nothing to do with attacking Cintra or anyone else, so there is no war and no battle at Sodden Hill either. As for what happened to Calanthe? That’s up for your imagination, as by the timeline of the story she was still suffering in her chambers and later on no matter what happened, because that reality stopped existing.  
> 4\. This is my first ever fanfiction that does not mention snow/winter/Christmas.  
> 5\. For all the titles I used explicitly Mumford & Sons lyrics, as a mini challenge for myself.
> 
> I wish I could say it was ‘fun’ to write this story, but _emotional hell_ is what it was. On the other hand though it might just be one of my favourites, despite the fact that it made me wanna write only disgustingly sweet fluff for a week. (That’s probably due to the fact that this was the first time I wrote Jaskier to be human and let me tell you; it hurts real bad.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and as you all know: kudos and comments are love and power and they are much appreciated.  
> Stay safe everyone!


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